Busted
by blessedsilence
Summary: After the Sorceress War, Seifer finds himself down on his luck in Esthar. He survives by whoring himself out, and his only wish is to die. However, he can't do that until he tells his greatest rival how he feels. Deathfic, otehr stuff.


Disclaimer: Square Enix owns all (lucky bastards). And Hot Action Cop owns the song 'Busted', which this fic is loosely based on.

Warnings: Deathfic. Crappy, crappy writing. I imagine some OOC-ness... if you still feel like reading, you have my admiration and my sympathies for your mental health .-

I posted this story in a different account earlier, but I decided to take it down and throw it in my blessedsilence account instead. So if it seems familair, that's why.

Busted

by Vaskjuil

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I hate mirrors. They always let me know more about myself than I care to know. The mirror in this shithole of an apartment is no different, unless you count the crack running down the middle that always splits my features in two. I dunno, maybe it just adds to the effect. A broken mirror, a broken reflection, all for a broken man.

After the war I stayed in good old FH for a while until the locals figured out who I was. Needless to say, they weren't pleased. I barely made it out of there and here to Esthar with my shitty life. I lived off the streets for awhile until I had enough money to rent out this tiny apartment. Where did I get the money, you may ask? You'd be surprised what goes on in the Estharian underground. I made most of my cash by whoring myself out. It's amazing what some people pay me to suck their dicks. It's even more amazing what they pay me to keep quiet about it. The rest of my money is made in drugs. In Esthar everybody knows troubles easy to get. On every corner you've got burnouts dealing to the teachers pet. I never tried the stuff before- whoring doesn't make that much money. Around here nobody knows who I am, no one even considers that I was the Sorceress' Knight. No one cares either, as long as I keep my mouth shut and my legs open. depending on what the customer wants. It's a necessary existence. I hate it.

More than once I've thought about ending my life. It wouldn't be too hard, really. Around my home is all the ways and means, guns hiding under porno magazines. Two seconds, and it would all be over, my brains splattered all over these grimy walls. But I can't, can I? Not until I apologize for what I've done.

I go into the small bathroom and lean forward on the counter, studying my appearance in the mirror. I look almost exactly the same, except for my eyes. They look cold, uncaring. They're the eyes of a dead man. Not like it matters anymore.

I sigh at the expected sound of a knock on the back door and leave the dingy bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I kick the few odd items under my bed and take a quick look around to ensure that the place is relatively clean before admitting my customers. He's one of my regulars, one of many. He steps in with a familiar stride, a far cry from his actions when he first came here for my services. He looks around with cool expression as I remove my vest and toss it carelessly onto my bed. He eyes my naked torso briefly before shaking his head. I stare at him passively, waiting for him to figure out what he wants.

"I think just a blow tonight, boy. My wife is waiting."

I allow myself a relieved breath as I seat the man on the bed. He pays very well, but his fucking tends to make me bleed, which loses money for me in the long run. As he settles on the bed I lightly finger his growing erection through his pants. When I feel it has hardened enough I slowly unzip him and run the back of my hand over his length. He growls at me to get on with it. I reach into his underwear and pull it out, fisting the hard flesh lightly with my hand until the first beads of precum can be seen. Then, after a brief moment of distaste, I draw the head into my mouth and suck lightly while stroking the hard shaft. He moans loudly as I delve into his slit with my tongue and tries to buck his hips. I hold him down with my free hand, and then take more of his cock in my mouth. Soon my nose is nestled in pubic hair and I can feel his head brushing against the back of my throat. His hands latch onto the sides of my hair, trying to push me down even further. He lets out a weird keening noise, and at the last minute shoves me off of him and cums all over my face with a low growl. He then proceeds to spread his seed around my face with his deflated dick. I used to feel disgust at the act, but now I know there are worse things. There is a click and the 'whirr' of a camera, and then he shoves me head back down for me to clean it. I suck the semen off with a practices familiarity, and then zip up his pants. We then stand, and I show him to the door, where he hands me an envelope.

"There's an extra hundred for the picture."

"Thank you, sir."

And then he's gone, just like that. I've never told him my name, and he's never told me his. It's just easier that way, I guess. I eye the envelope. With the extra money I have enough to cover rent, plus a few extra dollars. Maybe I'll get a haircut- I like it better when it's not long enough for the customers to pull.

I toss the money on my bedside table and go to the bathroom for a towel. I look at my split, semen covered face in the mirror, and sneer at myself. Pathetic. I wipe the foreign fluid off a tad bit roughly and throw the rag into a corner. I brush my teeth while avoiding my reflection, and then yawn.

Another knock sounds at the door, and I glance up, vaguely confused. I don't have any more customers scheduled tonight, and the rent is still covered through this week. I look warily out the eyehole and, for the first time in over a year, feel genuine surprise. It's Squall. I open the door after a moment's pause and admit him. He seems almost as shocked at my appearance as I am at his, but fortunately he's better at hiding it than I am. He sniffs vaguely, probably trying to figure out what that smell is. I figure if he can't tell the lovely aroma of weed and semen by now, there's probably no hope for him.

"Leonhart. what brings you here?"

He sits at my small table before answering. "My contacts said I might find you here."

I feel a moment of shame, but it passes almost as soon as it's recognized. "I assume you know what I am, then?" He nods. "Then what, are you here for a quick fuck? I'll give you a nice discount- half price." He stares at me reproachfully. I sigh and walk to the fridge. "You want a beer or something?" He shakes his head. I grab a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey and sit in the only other chair that I own. I stare at the quiet man. "So then what d'ya want?

"To bring you home."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "I am home, Leonhart. See? I've even got a pet rat." The rodent in question crawls back into whatever hole it came from. I've got everything I want: a bed and booze, cheap thrills and, of course, my worthless dreams. The best part is that around here, Murder is just a game on a PC screen. Don't have to worry about robberies either, nobody would think to break into this piece of crap building."

Squall scowls at me. "You are so full of shit. Why can't you just be honest for once?"

I scowl back at him. "Fine, you want honesty? I'm lost to the world outside, and I can't let anyone in because if I do, they may kill me. I'm learning what I get from a T.V. set, and it's driving me crazy. Everything personal I own is hidden on a closet shelf so I can feel some iota of privacy against my clients. Everything else I own has been used during sex in some manner. Even that chair you're sitting in." I get some satisfaction out of his eye twitch, but unfortunately he doesn't do much else. "There's a hole in my life that I'm trying to fill, but it's going to grow until the day that I die. Right now I'm living in a place that I never want to face, but the fact is that I'm a drug dealing whore, Squall. You want honesty? Yesterday I met this chick, hardly even twenty years old. She ran away when she was fourteen because her father was abusing her and her brother. Right now she's paying for things by swinging from a pole with a nipple ring. I passed a guy a few days ago who was sitting on a corner. He's trying to ease the sting of his life by tying off his arm with a nylon string. He had scars criss-crossing all over his wrists and arms. And you know what? This whole time I've been thinking about you, about what I would say if I could see you again. And here I am telling you about the real world. Isn't life just fucking beautiful?"

He flashes me an unreadable expression. "It doesn't have to be that way."

I snort. "What makes you say that?"

" I was able to clear your name, and there's a position for you as a level 5 SEED member if you want it."

I stare at the man, considering his offer. It's tempting, but I just can't take it. "Listen, Squall.. thank you. But I can't accept your offer. Right now I am where I am, and nothing can change that."

Squall sneers at me. "You're not the Seifer I knew. He never would have liked this."

I glare at him, matching his sneer with one of my own. "Oh yeah, Leonhart, I like my life. I like it when these sick fucks screw me. I like sucking dick. I fucking love being in constant fear of contracting some disease. You don't know fucking anything, Leonhart."

He stand up, eyes smoldering. "The why don't you fucking leave!?" His voice ends in a shout.

I stand and shout back at him. "Because I can't!"

He growls from the back of his throat. "Why the hell not!?"

"Because I deserve this!"

His eyes widen. "You think you deserve this?"

I don't answer right away. Instead I reach into my closet and pull out the handgun I got in exchange for Hyperion. I check to make sure it's loaded before speaking. "You know, Leonhart, there was this rhyme I heard when I was a kid. It went something like 'mirror mirror can you tell, if they're kneeling in confession or if they just fell; the mirror looks back and knows damn well that it's really hard living when you're living with yourself'." I drop to my knees. "Well Squall, the rhyme is right. It's been very hard living by myself, knowing what I did. But you're here now, and I have a confession to make. Please, have a seat." He sits down slowly, and I bow my head. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been...."

"Seifer, what...?"

I point the gun in the direction of his head. "Dammit Squall! I said I have a confession to make! I've been waiting years for this, so shut the hell up!" Thankfully the man follows my orders, and I continue. "Thank you. Now, it has been a lifetime since my last confession. My main sins have been within the past few years. I've drunk alcohol, old drugs to underage kids, had sex with numerous people for money.."

"Seifer.."

I fire the gun, and the bullet ricochets off the bathroom door and shatters the glass of the mirror. "I'm trying to make a fucking confession, now shut the hell up or the next one goes in your brain!" I wait for a moment, and then continue. "Under the orders of Ultimecia I've been responsible for the deaths of hundreds, the rapes of women and children, and the torture of the only person I ever gave a damn about. Now, am I forgiven?"

I look up at Squall's confused, slightly horrified face. "Seifer, what are you doing?"

I stand and glare down at him. "Am. I. Forgiven!?"

Squall swallows. "Yes, you're forgiven! Now put the gun down!"

I chuckle lightly and stumble back from Squall, a smirk on my face. "Sorry love, no can do. See you on the other side." I give him the classic SEED salute, and then raise the gun to my temple. His eyes go wide, and he runs towards me.

"Seifer!"

His futile cry is the last thing that enters my mind before I pull the trigger.

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And thus, a crappy fic. So... some one has to flame me now, right? Or not. shrug Anyways, thanks for reading, and have a nice day!

PS: please carefully consider the following question: Was hast du fuer ein Klondike Bar getan?


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